Time Heals All Wounds
by pamz
Summary: Felipe runs into old friends and enemies while at basic training; back in Los Angeles Victoria tends Zorro's musket wound (FAM)-Story #5
1. Chapter One

Author's notes: This is the 5th story in my continuing series. It doesn't make much sense unless you have read my story "A Perfect Match" because this is a continuation of that story.

Disclaimer: This story is an amateur, not-for-profit publication produced solely for the enjoyment of other Zorro fans and is not intended to infringe upon any rights by Goodman/Rosen Productions, New World Television, Zorro Productions, the estate of Johnston McCulley or anyone else.

**"TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS"**

**CHAPTER ONE**

San Diego was the site of the first Californian mission, established by Padre Junipero Serra in 1769. Its location on a natural harbor made it an important center of trade and transportation. It was much larger than the pueblo de Los Angeles.

After three long days of traveling, the recruits from Los Angeles did not care which was the biggest pueblo. All they wanted was a decent meal and a place to sleep. The days and nights on the road had taken their toll on the already dispirited men.

Felipe was tired, hungry and filthy. Ana Maria's mother, Leonora Ortega, had made him a new suit of a deep forest green. It was now covered in dust and much to Felipe's dismay, torn in several places.

The wagonloads of men finally arrived at a large field filled with tents on the outskirts of San Diego. The weary draftees disembarked eagerly, realizing their journey was at an end.

A short, stout sergeant immediately marched over to the newcomers. "The garrison from Los Angeles reporting, Sir," announced a young corporal with a neat salute. He and six of his fellow lancers had been recruited along with the others from the pueblo.

"Where is your roster?" the sergeant barked, taking charge. The nervous corporal quickly handed it over to the other soldier. The portly man began reading off names.

As each man stepped forward, he and his belongings were searched for contraband. Then he was asked if he had a trade or other skill. He then was assigned to a regiment

This process went on for quite some time, with the gruff sergeant very much in command. Paco, one of the de la Vega ranch hands, nudged Manuel, another hand, and said, "He only _looks_ like Sergeant Mendoza."

Felipe barely had a chance to grin at the remark when the man in question leveled them all a menacing glare.

"Felipe de la Vega," the officer finally called out nearly half an hour later. The young man had almost fallen asleep where he stood. Paco had to elbow him in the ribs and point toward the sergeant. Comprehending it was his turn, he jumped, grabbed his satchel and moved forward.

The stout sergeant eyed the young man up and down. "We have ourselves a caballero here," he sneered to the two lancers who were assisting him. "Age."

Felipe hesitated, not sure what he should do. Should he reveal he could hear and speak or perhaps if they thought he could not, he might be sent home.

"Age," the sergeant repeated impatiently. "What is the matter, cat got your tongue?"

Paco was about to speak up on Felipe's behalf when another voice answered the sergeant's question. "He is twenty, Sergeant Melendez."

When everyone turned to see who had spoken, Felipe's face broke into a wide grin.

"_Hola_, Felipe," greeted Carlos de la Paz, a smile on his handsome face as well. He turned to the sergeant. "What seems to be the problem here, Melendez? My good friend here is a deaf mute. He is quite intelligent though and can read lips. Isn't that right, Felipe?"

Felipe nodded with relief. He was surprised to see his old friend Carlos here. The two young men had kept in touch over the years via letters.

"I did not realize, Sir," Melendez sputtered. "He did not answer . . . "

"I will personally see to his induction, Sergeant," interrupted Carlos authoritatively. He had obviously matured from the spoiled brat he had once been and was now a responsible young man. He motioned for Felipe to follow him. The young man eagerly snatched up his case.

"Can you believe it, Felipe?" Carlos asked, his own disbelief creeping into his voice. "I am a lieutenant in charge of my own regiment. I will see to it you are placed under my command if you wish."

Felipe nodded, marveling at his good fortune.

"_Bueno_, it is settled then," his friend declared. He glanced over his shoulder at the stout sergeant and began to laugh.

"Oh, Felipe," he said when he realized Felipe's confusion. "Sergeant Melendez dislikes me. He thinks my father bought me my rank just because he is a judge. But he cannot say anything because I outrank him."

Felipe smiled hesitantly, still not understanding fully. Carlos skipped onto the next subject. "You must tell me what has been happening in Los Angeles since you wrote last. How is Ana Maria? I bet she was sad to see you go."

Once again, Felipe nodded. He had decided it was probably best to conceal his ability to hear and speak, especially since Carlos was here.

"I have a lovely senorita pining for me too," continued Carlos, bragging a little. "My poor Carmelita cried buckets when I had to leave."

The two young men had nearly walked half way through the crowded field. Carlos stopped in front of one of the dusty tents. It was slightly larger than any other of the surrounding canvas shelters.

"Home, sweet home." Carlos lifted the flaps to show Felipe inside. A small desk, a cot and a large trunk took up most of the floor space. "All the essentials," he joked. He sobered before he spoke again. "I am sorry, Felipe, but you will probably have to share quarters with another recruit. As you can see, accommodations here are pretty tight."

Felipe indicated he understood the situation. Carlos took his satchel and set it upon the trunk. "Let's go find you something to eat," he suggested. "I wager you are starving."

Felipe grinned and the two friends set off in search of food.

**Z Z Z**

He loved her.

Not as friend, although he valued her friendship.

Certainly not as a brother, but as a man loves the woman he wants to marry and bear his children. The woman he desires above all others.

He treasured every glance his way, every smile, every touch. He tried not to dwell on the times that as Zorro he was allowed to hold her in his arms, caress her soft skin and taste the sweetness of her mouth. But such thoughts often filled his head and left him with such an aching inside.

It was getting harder and harder to bear.

He watched her move about the tavern, serving her customers. Smiling, she attended to their needs, taking orders, fetching more wine. Sometimes that smile even reached her eyes when she spoke to an old friend or a good customer.

There were some, mostly men, with whom the smile was forced and her politeness barely skin deep. These were the ones who tried to become too familiar, attempted to take improprieties. She had worked at the tavern since she was a young child and knew how to handle the unwanted attention that came her way.

He realized now that some in the pueblo knew he loved her. The young bucks who had seen the territorial look in his eyes when they tried to approach her. The sharp-eyed matrons who saw the way he glanced at her and gossiped amongst themselves about it. He was grateful no one had betrayed this secret.

Diego drank the last of his lemonade and placed a coin on the counter. He had time for only a quick bit of refreshment. After running errands all morning, he needed to hurry back to the ranch to help his father. The loss of five vaqueros had more than doubled their workload.

He caught Victoria's eye, waving as he walked toward the doorway and she smiled at him. One of those smiles that reached her dark eyes.

Victoria held a soft spot in her heart for the tall caballero who ducked out the door into the bright afternoon sunlight. He and his father had been good friends to her, almost like family, always lending a hand when needed.

She had never thought of him as a suitor. Perhaps when he had first arrived back from Spain, so handsome and dashing. But then she had met the only man she would ever love. A man who was almost a complete mystery to her. Zorro.

Oh he was brave and strong, smart and witty, easily defeating his opponents with a sharp sword or tongue. He was also gentle and kind. She did know the color of his eyes under his mask. She knew the taste of his lips and of his passion for her.

She stood behind the bar and scanned the room. Almost any one of these men could be him. It frustrated her that he might be someone she encountered every day. There were those she had mentally scratched from her list of candidates. Men who were too old, too young, too short or too fat. Although he was none of those things, Diego de la Vega was not considered a candidate either.

He was certainly tall enough and probably about the right age. But he lacked everything else that Zorro had, courage, weaponry skill and a passion for injustice. Diego lacked passion for everything except for science and poetry.

Victoria sighed as she wiped the counter. She was getting tired of waiting for the day Zorro removed his mask and swept her away on Toronado, somewhere, anywhere they could be alone together for more than a few minutes. She wanted a home and children.

She threw down the cleaning cloth and went to the kitchen to start supper.

**Z Z Z**

The next afternoon found Diego at the tavern once again. He had been inspecting the fences in the de la Vega pasture not far from the pueblo. His father planned to move some cattle there in a few days.

"_Buenos tardes_, Diego," Victoria greeted him as he leaned against the gleaming bar. "Juice?"

"_Por favor_," he responded. Victoria poured out a glass of cool orange juice. "I cannot stay long," he said then took a sip of his glass.

"You and your father have been keeping busy, " she remarked casually.

"_Si_, this edict could not have come at a worse time," he complained. "The cattle need to be moved and readied for market, the sheep need shearing, the orchards need harvesting and we have to get it done with half as many hands. Father has hired a couple of older men but . . . " He shrugged his shoulders.

"Things are tight everywhere," agreed Victoria. "It seems like I have lost half my customers." Changing the subject, she asked, "Any news yet of Felipe? I still cannot believe he was included. It is an outrage."

"Father is writing letters to anyone he thinks might be able to help," Diego informed her. "I have also written to a friend of mine who is a capitan stationed in Spain. He knows several important officials."

"It is a shame anyone had to go." Victoria shook her head. She had placed glasses of wine on a tray. "Excuse me, Diego." She whisked off to deliver the wine to a table of waiting customers.

Diego turned to look about the nearly empty tavern. He spied Ana Maria and her mother seated near the staircase, eating a late lunch. At least Leonora Ortega was. Ana Maria was just toying with the enchilada on her plate with a glum expression marring her beautiful face.

"Ana Maria," her mother spoke sharply. "Eat your lunch. We cannot afford to let food go to waste."

"Sorry, Mama," replied the morose girl. "I am not very hungry."

"This is the third day you have not eaten," scolded Leonora. "Starving yourself is not going to bring Felipe back."

"I know, but. . ." Ana Maria was close to tears at the mention of her beloved's name.

"We need to pinch every penny now that we are buying the tailor shop, " the señora remarked. "Please eat your lunch, _hija_."

"_Buenos dias, Señora y Señorita_," Diego said as he approached their table. "Did I hear correctly? You are buying Señor Reynoso's shop?"

"_Si,_ Don Diego," replied the elder Ortega. "His eyesight is failing and he is going to go live with his daughter in San Gabriel. We are getting quite a good deal but then it needs some work."

Ana Maria could wait no longer. "Have you heard from Felipe?" she burst into the conversation.

"Ana Maria, please, " chided her mother. "Don Diego, you must forgive my daughter. She has forgotten her manners today."

"Quite all right," Diego said with a smile. "I am sure he will write as soon as he can," he added, trying to reassure the worried girl. "Now if you will excuse me ladies, I must be going. _Adios_."

Leonora watched as he walked toward the door. "I am surprised," she declared, "that such a handsome man as Don Diego has remained unmarried for so long. It is really quite a shame."

"Mama!" Ana Maria was shocked. "Surely you are not thinking. . ."

"Oh no," replied her mother. "Just curious, that is all." She shot a meaningful glance at Victoria who was also watching Diego leave.

As he stepped over the threshold into the cool November sunshine, a group of rough looking men were trying to enter. Diego moved aside so that the five of them could pass. He noticed they all looked to be in their early twenties.

Perhaps heading to San Diego to join the other recruits, he mused, or. . . He paused and looked at them again, maybe deserters.

One of the men turned to see Diego staring at them and spat out his tobacco on the tavern porch.

"I think Zorro needs to monitor this situation," murmured Diego to himself. He quickly mounted his horse, Esperanza and swiftly rode out of the pueblo.

**Z Z Z**

The tavern was quite a raucous place by the time Zorro rode back into Los Angeles. The gang of young men had been eating and drinking and laughing loudly at each other's deplorable table manners. Several of them tried to get too friendly with Pilar but she had learned from Victoria how to escape lecherous clutches.

Señora Ortega had hustled her daughter quickly upstairs to their rooms and made sure their doors were bolted. She would be glad when they could move to their shop. She really liked Victoria but a tavern was no place for a young girl to live.

The men were drunk enough now that tempers began to flare. Finally one of them said the wrong thing to the wrong person and a fist fight broke out.

Victoria had reached behind the bar for her trusty club before she marched over to where the two men were shoving each other into the furniture. "Stop this right now," she demanded as she held up her weapon. "Get out of my tavern. All of you."

Another of the men came up behind her and seized her about her tiny waist. "It is just harmless fun, eh, _querida_," he slurred in her ear. She could smell his sour breath as she struggled to get away from him.

"Let me go, _cerdo_," she hissed at him. Victoria tried to swat at him with the club but could not land a good blow. The drunken man wrenched the weapon from her hands.

At that moment, Zorro dropped from the balcony above to the tavern floor. "Do as she requests, _por favor_," he growled, his hand ready on the hilt of his sword.

"What is this?" the man sneered at Zorro's mask and cape. "A masquerade?"

"No," the man in black snarled back at him, "a bash."

He unsheathed his saber then punched the other man square in the nose. The man reeled backwards and fell against a table.

His companions took notice of their friend's predicament. They drew their swords and tried to attack Zorro. It was hardly a fair fight. The masked man soon had them all writhing in pain on the floor. A couple of them had "Z's" expertly slashed into their clothing.

Zorro had ascertained that Victoria had been unharmed and was about to kiss her sweet lips when the tavern door burst open. "What is going on in here?" the Alcalde demanded as he strode in. Unfortunately he had been crossing the plaza and heard all the commotion coming from inside the tavern.

His jaw dropped when he saw Zorro standing there, holding Victoria in his arms. "Zorro!" he shouted. "Lancers!"

"You know, Alcalde," the man in black drawled, "you spoil all my fun." He gave the woman in his embrace a quick peck on the mouth. He ran up the stairs and into one of the empty guestrooms just as several soldiers rushed into the building. Under the room's window awaited his faithful steed, Toronado.

"Around back," roared de Soto. He and the lancers circled behind the tavern. "There he is." The Alcalde pointed at Zorro as he landed on his stallion's back. "Shoot! Shoot him!"

The soldiers raised their muskets and aimed as Zorro galloped away. The guns fired noisily but the masked man kept get further away.

De Soto was beside himself with rage. "We had him in the palms of our hands!" he yelled at his men. "You fumbling fools could not hit an elephant. What I need is more soldiers, _better _soldiers," he emphasized as a wheezing Mendoza finally rounded the corner of the tavern. "Back to the cuartel!" he shouted once again.

**Z Z Z**

Zorro winced as the musket ball tore through the flesh of his left arm. He had managed to stay astride the galloping stallion despite the searing pain. As soon as he was out of sight of the pueblo, he slowed Toronado to a halt. That was when he noticed that the lower half of his sleeve was soaked with blood. He was already beginning to feel a bit lightheaded.

"Must have nicked an artery," he guessed as he pressed his right hand over the wound. It was over a mile and a half to the hacienda and it just dawned on him that Felipe would not be there to assist him. Zorro realized he had no other choice.

He wheeled the black Andalusian around and headed back to Los Angeles.

**Z Z Z**


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

Darkness was beginning to fall as Victoria finished putting the tavern back to rights. Mendoza had escorted the troublemakers to the garrison where the Alcalde wanted them locked up. He was positive they were deserters, perhaps with a reward for their capture. 

People were starting to arrive for their evening meals. Victoria and Pilar hastily finished the supper preparations that had been interrupted. 

A little while later, Victoria was alone in the kitchen, slicing a loaf of bread. A faint scratching sound came from the direction of the backdoor. She thought nothing of it until she heard it again, this time a little louder. Probably just a stray cat, she imagined. She wiped her hands and went over to the door with the intention of shooing it away. 

"_Dios mio_," she gasped when she opened the door. Zorro, clutching his upper left arm, was leaning heavily against the door frame. It was obvious he had lost a lot of blood because his sleeve and glove were dripping with it. 

Victoria glanced over her shoulder, then pulled him into the kitchen. "What happened?" she asked. 

"One of the lancers got lucky," Zorro replied weakly. "Must have gone clear through and hit a vein." He swayed dizzily. 

"Come on, this way." Victoria put her arm around his waist and led him to a doorway. 

"Victoria, no," Zorro protested when he saw she was leading him to her quarters. "I must not be found here. Just bandage my arm then I will be on my way." 

"Do not be ridiculous," she chided. "You can barely walk, let alone ride. No one will know you are here. It will be safe, I promise." 

She led him over to her bed where he sat down weakly, no longer balking. Victoria winced as blood dripped onto her grandmother's quilt that was spread upon her bed. 

"Let me look at that wound," she stated. "You will need to take off your shirt." 

Zorro fumbled with the buttons, his gloved right hand hindering his progress. Victoria grabbed his wrist and removed both of his gloves. Then she deftly opened the buttons and helped him shrug out of his shirt. 

"_Dios mio_," she gasped again as she saw his bare chest for the first time. She knew he was strong, but she had no idea... Her eyes hungrily wandered over his exposed skin. It took every ounce of her self control not to caress the chiseled muscles. A moan of pain brought her back to the task at hand. 

The musket ball had indeed traveled through Zorro's arm, leaving a nasty exit wound. It was still bleeding profusely, confirming his assumption a blood vessel had been nicked. Victoria left him lying on her bed and went to gather the supplies she needed to nurse his injury. 

It did not take long for her to clean it, stitch the exit wound close and then tightly bind both wounds. She tried to get Zorro to drink a little wine, but he was barely conscious. Before she had finished wrapping the strip of cloth around his biceps, he seemed to have passed out. 

Victoria gazed down upon the man asleep in her bed. Hopefully she had applied enough pressure to stem his blood loss. She removed his boots from his feet and drew the quilt up over his legs. A wicked thought then crossed her mind. 

No, she told herself, she must not. She struggled with her conscious for a few moments, but curiosity won out. She leaned down and touched Zorro's face, sliding her fingers up under his mask. 

Victoria shrieked when his right hand grabbed her slender wrist tightly. His eyes had popped open and she was instantly contrite when she saw the pain in them. Pain cause not only by his injury. 

"I am so sorry," she pleaded softly. "I could not help myself. Please ... " 

"Victoria," whispered the masked man. "Promise me you will not ... Promise me ..." He was having trouble forming the words. 

"I will not look under your mask," she solemnly pledged. "Cross my heart and hope ..." 

His grip on her wrist tightened a little more. "Do not say that," he said. His hand fell away from her arm. "Never hope to die." 

His eyes closed again. Victoria anxiously searched for his pulse and was relieved to find it albeit weak. She was still worried about all the blood he had lost. Her mother had taught her that wine was the best way to build up the blood but she could only get Zorro to drink a little of it. All she could do now was wait and see. Maybe rest would be all he needed. 

She left the room to go speak with Pilar. She had the other woman finish serving supper then told her to close the tavern. 

** Z Z Z**

By the time Felipe was able to lie down on the narrow cot in the small canvas tent that was now his home, he was exhausted. It seemed as though he and Carlos had covered every square inch of the large field that day. His friend was quite popular and knew his way around very well. 

Felipe had been issued a uniform, musket and saber. Carlos had managed to secure him a tent next to his. He was assigned to Carlos' regiment and had been introduced to his comrades-in-arms. 

He just wanted to go to sleep for a long, long time. Carlos had informed him that reveille was at five o'clock in the morning and it was not a good idea to be caught still abed. 

But he wished to let Diego and Ana Maria know he had arrived safely, about Carlos and everything else that happened since he left Los Angeles. Felipe removed several sheets of paper from his satchel. A little digging around in the bag produced quill and ink. 

Sighing wearily, he dipped the quill and started to set his adventures to paper. 

A loud bugle blast startled Felipe from his slumbers. It seemed only a few minutes had passed since he had finally fallen asleep. Groaning a little, he pulled his wool blanket up over his head, hoping the cacophonous noise would go away. 

Carlos stuck his head through the tent flaps and saw his friend still in his bed. He stepped in and shook Felipe's shoulder. 

"Felipe, get up," he urged. He pulled the blanket from the other youth's head. An indignant Felipe sat up, rubbed his eyes, then glared at his friend. 

"You have to get dressed," instructed Carlos. "Hurry up, you do not have much time." 

Felipe stood up as his friend tossed him the pieces of his uniform. It took him awhile to don the unfamiliar garments. Carlos inspected the final result. 

"Button that button," he pointed to Felipe's collar. The young de la Vega did so then gasped for breath as it was very tight. 

"No, leave it," he said. "You will get a demerit for being out of uniform." 

Felipe raised an eyebrow as if to say just because of one button. Carlos laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "You are in the army now, _amigo_. Come on, let's go." 

Somehow Felipe made it through the day. There were constant inspections and drills. And there were so many rules to follow. He had gotten to the point where he just saluted everyone. Thankfully Carlos stayed with him most of the day. The young lieutenant tried to explain to his superior officer, Capitan de la Cruz about Felipe's lack of hearing and speech 

The capitan grumbled about the Crown being so desperate for soldiers that they were inducting imbeciles now. Felipe clenched his fists as he pretended not to hear the insulting remark. But the officer made no mention of the possibility of a discharge. 

Carlos requested that Felipe be made his aide-de-camp. Capitan de la Cruz agreed and the young man was also given the rank of corporal. 

It was dark by the time he returned to his small tent. Felipe was grateful that Carlos had arranged it so he would not have to share quarters. He lit a match intending to light the lantern just inside his tent but it was not there. 

He held the flame out in front of himself. The interior of the canvas shelter was a disaster. Everything had been dumped out of his bag and strewn everywhere. His cot had been upended and the bedding thrown on the ground. 

Felipe stared in disbelief at the wreckage. He located his lantern, noting its bent frame. Salvaging the candle, he lit it and began to gather up his belongings. His clothes had been tromped on, pages had been ripped from his books and ink was splattered on everything. 

_The letters!_ Felipe thought with alarm. His shoulders sagged with relief when he remembered he had them in his jacket pocket. He had forgotten to ask Carlos where to post them, the day had been so hectic. 

A cursory check found nothing was missing. He picked up what he could, righted his cot and shook out his blanket. He laid down on his bed and wondered, who would do such a thing? 

** Z Z Z**

Ignacio de Soto finished packing his saddle bags. He had decided to personally check to see if there was a reward for the men in his jail. He was prepared to ride all the way to Monterey if necessary. The Alcalde had thought of appealing to the territorial governor for more soldiers to be stationed in Los Angeles. He figured he had a special case because of Zorro. Half of the garrison had been requisitioned and now he was left with only five lancers, two who almost ready for retirement. Sergeant Mendoza was probably the best of the lot. De Soto cringed at the thought. 

And now he had to leave Mendoza in charge while he was away. Hopefully things would be quiet. Strange occurrences always seemed to take place whenever the bumbling sergeant was running the garrison. 

Slinging his bags over his horse's back, the Alcalde then swung himself up into the saddle. A misplaced key had delayed the start of his journey as he and Mendoza had spent most of the morning searching for it. Now he would be lucky to reach Santa Paula by nightfall. De Soto had hoped to stay that evening in Santa Barbara where that pueblo's alcalde had a daughter who caught his eye the last time he passed that way. Perhaps on the trip back . . . 

He looked down at Mendoza who was waiting to see him off. "Sergeant, I want this garrison to be spotless when I get back. Everything should be polished and as neat as a pin," he ordered with a hint of a threat in his voice. "And Mendoza," he added so only the sergeant could hear. "Stay out of my wine and cigars. _Comprende_?" 

"_Si, mi Alcalde_," gulped Mendoza nervously. He and the other soldiers saluted as their commandante headed out of the pueblo. 

As soon as de Soto had disappeared down the road, the stout sergeant headed toward the tavern, intending to indulge in a late lunch. He abruptly stopped and a look of dismay came over his face. 

"Closed? Why is the tavern closed?" he wondered out loud. The hungry soldier stood in front of the inn, scratching his head in confusion. The door opened and the Ortegas stepped outside. Mendoza called out to them. 

"_Buenos dias_, ladies." He walked toward the mother and daughter, eyeing the basket the señora carried. "What is going on? Why is the tavern closed? Is Señorita Victoria ill? 

Leonora answered the sergeant's barrage of questions. "Victoria is indeed ill, Sergeant. I spoke to her this morning and she looked terrible, like she had been up all night. She has decided to close until she feels better." 

"But, where will..." Mendoza did not think he could stomach eating at the cuartel mess for any length of time. The garrison cook could do the most unspeakable things with food. 

Señora Ortega smiled at him, guessing at his dilemma. Mendoza had not noticed before what a handsome woman the new seamstress was. He grinned back at her. The good sergeant would have been surprised to know that she was thinking what a nice fellow he was. 

"We are on our way to inspect our new shop," Leonora stated. "We were going to do some cleaning and later have a picnic supper. Would you like to join us?" She hoped he would not think her too forward. 

"I would love too," responded Mendoza graciously. He never turned down an invitation to a meal, especially if it was issued by a lovely lady. He gallantly offered his arm to the seamstress. They made their way across the plaza to the old tailor's shop followed by the melancholy Ana Maria. 

** Z Z Z**

Victoria had indeed been awake for most of the night. She had to change Zorro's dressing three times. Finally the bleeding had subsided and she was able to clean it a little better. The masked man had drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the night. She managed to get him to drink a glass of wine during one of his more lucid periods. He had slept peacefully most of the morning. By early afternoon, he had awakened and eaten a bowl of beef broth. 

Victoria came back into her bedroom after taking the tray back to the kitchen. She was shocked when she saw Zorro struggling to sit up. He was having a difficult time being able to use only his right arm. He fell back into the pillows and gave his love a wry smile. 

"Zorro," she scolded. "You have lost too much blood. You are not going anywhere just yet." 

"I have discovered that," he admitted grudgingly. "But I worry what will happen if I am found here. You could be in great danger, _querida_. I need to leave as soon I am able." 

She sat down on the edge of the bed and checked on his bandage. Good, she thought, no red stain showing through. She smiled up at her patient. 

"Please do not worry. No one knows you are here." She glanced at him as a disturbing thought crossed her mind. "There isn't someone else who would be worried about you, is there?" 

The injured man thought about his father. He had been gone for over twenty-four hours and he imagined Don Alejandro would be wondering where his son might be. Of course it was possible he was so busy, he had not missed Diego as yet. Zorro prayed that was the case. He had often disappeared before for long periods of time without much consternation on his father's part. Zorro just hoped his father did not raise too much of an alarm once he realized Diego was missing. 

"No, _querida_," he fibbed to her. "No one at all." He touched her face with his hand and she leaned over to kiss him. 

The kiss deepened as they moved closer together. Victoria placed her hand against his bare stomach. Zorro moaned, but not in pain this time. The mood was broken when he instinctively move his injured arm to draw Victoria even closer. This time he groaned in agony and fell heavily onto his back. 

"Oh no, your arm!" she exclaimed, urgently checking to see that he had not reopened the wound. Rewrapping the cloth, she looked chagrinedly at the masked man. They both realized what might have happened if they had continued with their intimacy 

"My fault," Zorro apologized. "I guess I got carried away." He was breathing hard and was slightly flushed. 

"You should rest," Victoria smiled wryly. She kissed him gently on the cheek. "_Buenos noches_." 

"_Buenos noches, querida_," replied Zorro, closing his eyes. 

** Z Z Z**


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

The next morning, Felipe rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The noisy bugle blast had disrupted a very pleasant dream he was having about Ana Maria. He hastily put on his uniform, his cold fingers fumbling with the unfamiliar buttons. 

Yawning, he emerged from his tent into the early morning light. He started for the morning inspection when someone stepped into his path. 

"_Hola, muchacho_," sneered Tomas Quiñones. He, along with his friends Pablo and Juan, had voluntarily joined up, not waiting until the last minute to be inducted as had most of the men. Tomas thought it would be great fun to fight for their King. Of course the other two youths were there, standing on either side of their friend. They were never too far way from their leader. 

Felipe did not wish to get involved with Tomas and his cronies again and tried to move around the trio. But they held their ground, causing Felipe to bump into Tomas and knocking him back a few feet. The bully grabbed Felipe by his jacket with one hand and made a fist with the other which he waved menacingly. 

"Not so tough now, eh, without Zorro protecting you?" Tomas challenged with a snarl. Felipe's hands were clenched as well and he intended to prove the other man wrong. 

But before either of them could throw a punch, Carlos emerged from his tent. "What is going on here, Private?" he questioned although he had already summed up the situation correctly. Tomas immediately released Felipe's jacket. 

"Nothing, Lieutenant, sir." he saluted smartly. "De la Vega and I are old friends." 

"Get back to your unit, pronto," commanded Carlos, "before I report you for assaulting a superior officer." 

Tomas glanced quickly at Felipe's uniform and noted the stripe indicating the other man was a corporal. Felipe wished that Carlos had kept quiet as Tomas sneered threateningly at him. He motioned for his two companions to follow him. 

Felipe and Carlos walked briskly to join the rest of their regiment. "Who was that?" the young lieutenant inquired. He nodded in understanding at Felipe's signed response. 

"Ah, Tomas Quiñones. Your old rival for the fair Ana Maria's affections." Carlos waved his hand, "Hurry or we will be late." 

Now Felipe knew who had vandalized his tent. Somehow Tomas had found out he was here and arranged the little greeting for him. He decided not to say anything to Carlos about the incident, preferring to deal with the other man on his own. He quickened his pace, catching up to his friend. 

** Z Z Z**

Victoria awoke earlier that morning to the sound of a loud groan emanating from her bed. She had been dozing in a chair opposite the bed. She jumped up to examine her patient. 

Zorro was drenched with sweat and thrashing his head from side to side. Victoria laid a hand on his stubbled cheek. He was burning with fever. 

She poured out a glass of water and brought it to his parched lips. He moved his head, nearly spilling the liquid. "No, no," he moaned. 

Victoria speedily undid the bandages to check his wound. Angry red streaks told her that it had become infected. She cleansed it again and wrapped it with fresh cloth. Stroking her hand on his face, she tried to get him to calm down. 

"Shh, shh," she soothed. "Your arm is infected. Perhaps I should get Doctor Hernandez." 

"No," the masked man said with surprising force. "No doctor. No." 

"All right, no doctor," promised Victoria reluctantly. She bit her lip with worry. She said a little prayer that the infection would not turn into anything more serious, like gangrene. She shuddered at the thought of what might happen then. 

She sat by the bedside, wiping his face and neck with cool water, trying to break the fever. Zorro slept fitfully, mumbling things Victoria could not quite catch. She did hear a noise in the kitchen that startled her. Assured that the man in her bed would be fine for a few minutes, she rushed out of the room. 

Luckily it was only Pilar, who had dropped by to see if her employer was still ill. One look at Victoria gave her the answer. The usually lovely innkeeper had dark purple circles under her eyes that stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin. The fact that she was still dressed in the skirt and blouse she had worn the day before was testament enough she was unwell. 

"I am sorry, Pilar," Victoria apologized. "Perhaps tomorrow." 

"All right, Victoria, " the other woman agreed. "_Hasta luego_." 

"_Adios_." Victoria closed the door behind Pilar. And just in time too as Zorro let out a very loud moan. She hurried in to be with him. 

**Z Z Z**

Don Alejandro and two of his remaining ranch hands were loading a wagon with crates filled with oranges, lemons and limes to take to the market in the pueblo. The elder de la Vega was getting quite perturbed with his only son. There had been no response when he had knocked on Diego's door at dawn. 

Probably he had been up all night reading some dull book or working on some pointless experiment. Although it had been the result of one of the younger de la Vega's ideas to grow citrus fruit in the first place. Diego had rattled on about the climate, soil conditions, etc., being similar to those in the Mediterranean. Don Alejandro had to admit it had been a smart move. The young trees were bearing their first fruits and the harvest was plentiful. 

Well Diego was not going to miss out on this, the old don vowed. He marched back into the hacienda. Rapping loudly on his son's bedroom door, he called out, "Diego, wake up!" Getting no response he continued, "Come on, son, I do not want to hear any of your excuses. I need your help today, Diego." 

Still receiving no reply, Don Alejandro opened the door and stomped into the room. "Diego, where are you?" he queried upon seeing the neatly made empty bed. He could not possibly be up and gone this early, the elder de la Vega wondered in puzzlement. 

He paused and tried to remember the last time he had seen his offspring. Had it been the day before yesterday? Surely Diego had been home for supper last evening. Don Alejandro shook his head in confusion. 

He stopped Maria, the de la Vega housekeeper, on his way outside. She informed him that she had not seen Don Diego for the past two days, confirming his suspicions. 

Where in the world could his son be? He hoped it was a simple explanation and not something dire. A niggling thought in the back of Don Alejandro's mind was that Diego had a mistress. Certainly no one from Los Angeles, but perhaps somewhere like San Pedro or San Gabriel. That would explain his son's mysterious disappearances and also why he was reluctant to marry. It was probably some sophisticated, beautiful older woman who appreciated his poetry and music. The old don wondered if she was the woman Diego claimed to be in love with when he tried to avoid marrying the Delgado girl. That was probably it. 

Don Alejandro hoped his heir would soon become disenchanted with this woman and find a suitable wife. A short while later he and the old vaquero Miguel were on their way to the pueblo with their wagon of fruit. 

As on any market day in Los Angeles, the plaza was filled with people buying and selling wares. It had been an especially good harvest that year for all the farmers. This morning's mood was not as bright as it should have been though. The absence of the young men who had been drafted cast a somber pall over the _mercado_. 

Ana Maria sighed wearily as she tended the stall she and her mother had set up. Señora Ortega sold what she called fripperies, lace trimmed handkerchiefs, fringed shawls, lace collars and other items to help supplement their income. Today she was busy sewing a dress for one of the don's wives, who needed it soon to wear to a niece's wedding. 

This is so boring, the younger Ortega thought. Although business had been brisk, Ana Maria's mind was elsewhere. She was very worried about Felipe, especially since there had been no word from him as yet. She missed him so much. 

Some of the younger boys had tried to flirt with her. They were just children, Ana Maria thought scornfully. The ones who made her nervous were the older men. She did not like the way they stared at her. The young woman could not understand why she attracted so much unwanted attention from the opposite sex. What she did not realize that it was her indifference to her beauty that drew men to her. 

Sighing again, she glanced over at the tavern. Ana Maria had not seen Victoria at all in the last several days but she had heard odd noises coming from the landlady's quarters. She decided it was none of her business and went back to pining over Felipe. She twirled the silver ring around her finger and exhaled sadly. 

** Z Z Z**

The object of her thoughts was about one hundred miles to the south. Felipe was beginning to get used to all the rules and regulations of army life. Unfortunately, there was still a lot to learn yet. 

Pretending to be deaf was at times a blessing and a curse. The drills were the hardest part. He tried to be always a step behind as if he were waiting to see what the others did first. The stout sergeant Melendez like to single Felipe out to criticize and call names. Felipe stood silently, taking the abuse without flinching. His hands were becoming sore from having to clench his fists so often. 

But the pain in his hands were no match for the aching of his feet. The constant marching had produced large blisters and his boots felt like they were two sizes too small. 

It was a relief at noon to sit down and eat lunch. The food here was all right, not as good as Señorita Victoria's but then whose was? He began to devour hungrily the bowl of stew and bread on his tray. 

At first he did not notice that the other soldiers seated around him were pointing and whispering to each other. Whatever was being repeated brought angry and disgusted looks to the faces of those who heard it. Felipe glanced up from his meal to see several sneering men staring at him. 

Now what, the young man thought. No doubt Tomas and his pals were causing more mischief, spreading some rumor about him. Felipe scraped the last bit of stew from his bowl and shoved the rest of his bread into his mouth. He had intended to use the rest of his lunch break to write more letters home. 

He had not walked very far with his tray when he went sprawling face first on the ground. Someone had tripped him. Picking himself up, he gathered his scattered utensils angrily. Most of the soldiers were paying attention to their meals but several were chuckling and smirking at him. 

Burning with embarrassment, Felipe strode away from the mess area. He realized another confrontation with Quiñones was inevitable, it was only a matter of when and where. Well, he was ready to put an end to this. Ana Maria was his and nothing the other man could do would ever change that. Remembering the missives he meant to pen, Felipe quickened his step. 

The rest of the afternoon he was kept busy, driving thoughts of anything else out of his mind. Carlos had assigned him several duties then spent time explaining how to complete them. Felipe indicated that most of them were pointless but the lieutenant just laughed. 

"You are in the army now, _mi amigo_," he repeated. "Almost everything we do is without reason." 

Actually Felipe was impressed by his friend's leadership abilities. He was well liked and respected by both his fellow officers and those under his command. He was hardly the vain, spoiled lad he had once been, but he still had his cutting sense of humor. Carlos often had Felipe holding back his laughter. 

It was early evening before the young corporal finally completed his assignments. He stopped at the mess to pick up some cold tamales to eat while he completed penning his letters. Felipe did not want a repeat of what happened at lunch either. 

He was passing by a circle of tents when he heard a loud voice he would recognized anywhere. 

"I am tired of all this endless marching," declared Tomas hotly. "When are we going to fight? I want to kill some of those French frogs." 

"I hear we might not go to Spain after all," Pablo volunteered. "A Colonel Santa Ana is trying to get the Viceroy to raise an army to take on the Americans settling in Texas." 

"Where did you hear that?" demanded Tomas. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Maybe we should volunteer to serve under this Santa Ana. I would not mind killing me a few of those Yankees either." 

Pablo and Juan looked at each other nervously. It had not been their idea to join the army at all as deep down they were both cowards 

"I think we should go find this colonel," Tomas said after thinking it over. "We will leave as soon as possible." 

"But what about de la Vega?" queried Juan. "I thought you were going to . . . " 

Tomas cut him short. "Do not worry about him," he sneered. "He might just become the first casualty of this war." He laughed evilly. His companions join in half heartedly. 

Felipe stumbled away from the tents and blindly made his way back to his own canvas shelter. So Tomas was planning to kill him then desert to join a rebel faction. His first instinct was to report what he had overheard. But he changed his mind. 

He did not need Carlos' help or indeed anyone's, including Zorro's. This was a problem he could take care of himself. 

** Z Z Z**


	4. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

A worried Victoria had spent most of the day tending to the feverish masked man. She sponged him with cool water, tried to get him to take sips of wine and strengthening broth. His wound still looked infected every time she changed the bandages but so far there had been no putrid odor emitting from it. 

Victoria had seen a case of gangrene only once before and it still made her shiver. The poor man had lost his leg. She would never forgive herself if Zorro had to lose his arm because of her inadequate nursing skills. 

She wonder if she should have Doctor Hernandez examine the masked man, no matter what she had promised. Her patient was unconscious most of the time and the rest of time he murmured incoherently. Making up her mind, Victoria draped her fringed _rebozo_ around her shoulders. 

"Victoria, no!" Zorro groaned loudly, halting her exit. She rushed to his side and saw that he was still delirious with fever. She threw off the shawl, sat on the edge of the bed and dipped a cloth in a bowl of tepid water that was on the bedside table. 

She wiped the lower half of his face and neck. Then she boldly moved the cloth over his broad shoulders and chest muscles causing a low moan from the injured man. 

If she could only remove his mask and cool his brow. It had to be uncomfortably hot under the black silk. But Victoria had given her word. She moistened the fabric again and sponged his face again. 

"Victoria," mumbled Zorro, this time with the beginning of a smile on his lips. He said something else she did not quite catch, then began to thrash wildy. "Father, no!" he cried worriedly. 

_Father?_ Victoria puzzled as she attempted to calm the agitated man. So, Zorro had a father about whom he was concerned. She thought he had said he had no family. Was that a lie to protect them? 

He had settled down, muttering something about the Alcalde. A glance out the window told Victoria that darkness had fallen once again. How many days had it been since Zorro had shown up at her door? Two? Three? She had lost count. 

She wearily removed her shoes and laid down next to her patient. Just a quick nap, she promised herself. Victoria kissed Zorro's cheek, then closed her eyes. 

** Z Z Z**

Don Alejandro was now beginning to worry. Diego still had not returned to the hacienda. And no one seemed to know where he might be. All day, the old don had inquired around the pueblo. About the only person he had not spoken to was Victoria. Ana Maria Ortega had informed him that the señorita was unwell and had not left the tavern in days. 

He had knocked on the inn's locked doors earlier that afternoon but there had been no response. Perhaps she had been asleep. A crazy thought had crossed Don Alejandro's mind, one so _loco,_ it made him laugh out loud. Surely he was putting two and two together and coming up with five. Just because Diego was missing at the same time no one had seen Victoria for several days. The notion was too absurd. Diego and Victoria. As far as he knew, Victoria only had eyes for Zorro and Diego... Well, his son had showed no interest in anything but poetry and science. 

He had once thought Victoria would have made Diego an excellent wife. Alfonso Escalante had been a good friend of his. He and his wife Elena had been hard workers, a trait they had passed down to their only daughter. 

The elder de la Vega shook his head and chuckled. Diego was no match for Victoria . It would be easy to see who wear the trousers of that couple. 

He and Miguel had finished loading the empty crates back into the wagon. It had been a good day selling their fruit. Too bad Diego had missed it. If his son did not arrive back by tomorrow morning, he was going to form a posse to search for him. He had already spoken to several of his _amigos_ and had even extracted a promise from Mendoza that the garrison would help. 

Flicking the reins, he and the old ranch hand headed out of the pueblo. 

** Z Z Z**

Felipe had only been asleep a couple of hours when a clanking sound and cursing right outside his tent woke him with a start. Again, he recognized the voice right away, although now its speech was slurred. 

Oh, great, Tomas had been drinking, groaned Felipe. The other man was mean enough sober, being drunk just made him worse. The young corporal wondered where Tomas had gotten the alcohol. It was one of the items that were strictly forbidden at the camp. Of course, trust Quiñones to find some. 

"Damn it, Juan, watch where you're going," Tomas growled. 

"He cannot hear us." The other youth reminded his friend. 

"Shut up anyway," was the reply. "That lieutenant friend of his can hear perfectly." 

Felipe slowly reached under cot, feeling for the gun he had placed there before he had gone to sleep. He had taken the precaution of loading it, having a premonition that Tomas would strike tonight. The young bully was impulsive, thinking he was smarter than he really was. Although hanging around with Juan and Pablo would make anyone feel superior. 

Felipe watched as the trio's shadows crept by the side of his tent. Raising his musket in preparation, he nervously waited for them to enter. 

"Private!" came a loud shout. "What is going on here?" An angry Sergeant Melendez had just happened to come around the corner as he was making his nightly rounds. 

"A ... a ..." Even Tomas was intimidated by the portly sergeant. "We were just ... " 

"Out of your quarters after curfew," Melendez finished for him. He leaned over and sniffed. "And drunk as well," he added. "Guards!" 

Felipe was peering through the slit of his tent flaps. Other soldiers had stumbled out of their beds upon hearing all the commotion. Carlos emerged from his tent as well and strode over to where the sergeant was keeping the three troublemakers in their place with sharp point of his musket's bayonet. 

"What is the problem, Sergeant?" Carlos asked sleepily, letting out a big yawn. 

The burly man quickly filled in the young lieutenant as the sentries arrived to take the violators to the stockade. Tomas glanced over his shoulder as he was being escorted away and saw Felipe's head sticking out his tent. 

"I am going to get you, _muchacho_!" he shouted, struggling with the soldier grasping his arm. "You better watch out." 

"My, what a nasty temper," stated Carlos. Noticing all the onlookers standing around shivering, he added, "All right, back to bed now. On the double." 

There was a mad scramble as the soldiers headed back to their tents. Carlos turned to see his friend's worried face through the flaps. 

"Think they were after you?" he inquired. Felipe nodded as he emerged from his quarters. 

"Do not fret, _amigo_," reassured his old friend. "A few days in the stockade should cool his temper and make him think twice about bothering you again." Carlos laughed as Felipe arched his eyebrows in doubt. 

"You will see. Now let's get some sleep." The young officer yawned again and made his way back to his own tent. 

Felipe stood in front of his canvas shelter for a moment. Shaking his head, he went inside to lie down, knowing it would be impossible to sleep much more tonight. A couple of days of being locked up would only make Tomas angrier. And Felipe knew his wrath would be directed at him. 

He sighed in resignation and closed his eyes. 

He would never get used to waking up to the blaring blast of the bugle, Felipe thought as he sat up in his cot. He finally had drifted off to sleep a couple of hours earlier. His head was aching and he doubted if it would improve as the day wore on. At least Tomas and his cohorts would be out of his way today. 

Donning his uniform, Felipe wished he could go back home. Diego had been right, army life was not what he thought it would be. It was tedious with endless drills and so many strict rules to follow. Salute this person, button that button, stand at attention... 

Maybe this training would be over soon and he and the others would be on their way to Spain. That would be exciting. He loved to listen to tales of Diego's time there. It would take several months to sail to Europe with a few stops along the way. He would be able to visit exotic places he had just heard of from others. 

Felipe only wished he could bring Ana Maria with him to share this adventure with her. He finished fastening up his blue jacket and headed out to take his place at the morning inspection. 

** Z Z Z**

At the de la Vega hacienda, Don Alejandro also was getting ready to face the day. He had stayed up until midnight, working on his accounts and keeping a lookout for his son's return. A quick check of Diego's room before he had headed for his own showed the still neatly made bed and no sign of his errant offspring. 

Now he had to waste time to go out searching for him. There were more orchards to harvest yet. In a couple of days the sheep shearing would begin. Every available hand was needed and Diego was well aware of that. 

Don Alejandro dressed hastily and went out to the stables to saddle his horse. Already the vaqueros were up and about, getting ready for the long day ahead of them. 

It did not take long for the elder de la Vega to cover the two miles to the pueblo. When he arrived, he noted there were no signs of activity at the cuartel. He pounded on the Alcalde's office door for several minutes before it was finally answered by a very sleepy Mendoza. 

The sergeant and the remaining lancers had decided to raid their commandante's liquor cabinet and smoke his Cuban cigars. They had stayed up until quite late, swapping stories and getting drunk. 

Don Alejandro was extremely upset with the stout officer. The old don glared at the bleary eyed Mendoza. "Sergeant, I will give you ten minutes for you and your men to be dressed and on your horses by the time I get back," he ordered sternly. He strode out of the building, slamming the door behind him. 

It dawned on the confused Mendoza that he had promised Don Alejandro he and the other soldiers would help look for Don Diego that morning. 

"Oh, my aching head," groaned the portly sergeant. He felt awful and he imagined his fellow lancers were fairing no better. Still, a promise was a promise, especially to Don Alejandro. 

Across the plaza, the first light of dawn glimmered through Victoria's bedroom window. A singing bird right outside the glass caused the masked man in the bed to stir. He did not open his eyes, wanting to savor the remnants of the dream he had been having before being disturbed. It had felt so very real ... 

A little too real, he thought with a start. Opening his eyes, he saw Victoria cuddled beside him. Her warm body was molded to his side and her small hand lay possessively on his bare chest. 

_Dios mio!_ Zorro tried to sit up but a stabbing pain in his left arm prevented him from doing so. He remembered now he had been shot and Victoria had tended his wounds. But how had they ended up sleeping together in her bed? _Madre de Dios_, what had he done? 

Zorro realized he was still holding Victoria with his good arm when she snuggled even closer to him. Looking down, he noticed that she was still fully clothed and lying atop the quilt. _Gracias a Dios_. He had not taken advantage of her. 

Victoria too was in the middle of the most delicious dream. Zorro had her in his strong arms and they were flying through the air on Toronado's back. Mm ... it felt so wonderful. 

Her eyes flew open and met the masked man's gaze. A soft "oh" was all she could manage to say. 

"Oh, indeed," Zorro responded with a wicked grin. 

"Your fever, it's gone?" Victoria's nursing instincts kicked in. She felt his whiskered face and it was cool. 

"Fever?" So that is why he did not remember what had happened. He must have been delirious. "How long have I been here?" His father must be frantic with worry. 

"Three days," Victoria replied. Neither of them had moved and both seemed reluctant to do so. They stared at one another as if to see who would make the first move and what it would be. 

"Victoria!" A loud banging noise accompanied the shout. "Victoria, are you all right?" The pounding sounded again. 

"Don Alejandro." Victoria rose from the bed in alarm. "He must not find you here. I will go speak with him." She hurried from the room before Zorro had a chance to respond. _Dios mio_, he thought, she was right. He could not be found here, especially by his father. 

He tried to rise once again from the soft mattress but his left arm was too painful to be of any assistance. Struggling, he finally sat up, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. Footsteps sounded right outside the bedroom door. He tried to swing his legs off the bed but it made him dizzy and he fell back against the pillows. 

** Z Z Z**


	5. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"I am feeling a little better today, Don Alejandro," Victoria said loudly, standing outside her bedroom door. "I probably will open the tavern tomorrow. Thank you for your concern." 

"_De nada_," the old don replied. She was acting a little oddly but perhaps it was because of her illness. He started to leave but then pivoted around, thinking it would not hurt to ask. "Victoria, you haven't by any chance seen..." 

She interrupted him quickly. "I have not seen anyone for three days, Don Alejandro, except for Pilar." She faked a little cough. "You should go, I might still be contagious." 

The elder de la Vega took a step back. "_Si, si_. I have to be going anyway. _Adios_." This time he continued on his way out of the tavern. 

Victoria sagged against the door. What a close call! If Don Alejandro had discovered Zorro in her bed ... On the other side of the door, Zorro was thinking the same thing. Plus if she had learned that Diego was missing the same three days he had been injured ... Well, she was a smart woman. 

Victoria opened the door and saw Zorro sitting up against the pillow with a grim face. 

"_Querida_, I need to go," he began. "Soon." He continued before she could protest. "Victoria, you will be in danger if I stay here much longer. The damage to your reputation alone ..." 

"I do not care about that," she interjected. "What matters is that you are well and safe. I would risk anything for you ... " 

Zorro interrupted her. "I know, even though I wish you would not. I am sorry, _mi corazon_, but I have to leave." 

"At least wait until tonight," suggested a defeated Victoria. "It will be easier to slip away in the darkness." She gave him a determined but sad smile. "I am going to make you a proper breakfast. You must be starving." She marched out of the bedroom. 

He had not realized he was hungry, but now that she mentioned it ... 

** Z Z Z**

Felipe's morning had passed with incident, much to his relief. Just more of the incessant drilling; march right, march left, about face, present arms. Felipe still remained about a half a step behind the others, but Sergeant Melendez had given up on him and found someone else to abuse. 

He had a little trouble with the firearms, being unfamiliar with them. The one area in which he excelled was fencing. He easily defeated everyone in his regiment including Carlos, much to his friend's chagrin. In fact, Carlos had challenged him to a rematch that morning. 

"Where did you learn to fence like that?" inquired the lieutenant, breathing hard. Felipe had trounced him once again. 

The young corporal just shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Carlos laughed and clapped him on the back. "Let's go get lunch," he suggested. "Then I have a mountain of paperwork with which I need your help." 

Felipe rolled his eyes as the two young men strode across the compound toward the mess tent. They had almost made it there when Felipe spotted someone who spoiled his appetite. Tomas, along with the ever present Juan and Pablo, were about to enter the mess as well. 

Felipe halted but Carlos walked on, not realizing for several steps his friend was not longer beside him. "Felipe, what ... " he questioned as he turned to look at the other young man. He spun around to see the trio of troublemakers. "How did they get out? Guards!" 

Two sentries immediately rushed over to the young lieutenant. Carlos pointed out Tomas and his companions. "Those men are supposed to be in the stockade," he stated. 

The guards ran over toward the three men, meaning to seize them. Tomas looked at Felipe and Carlos and smirked. "We have been released, _amigos_," he spat out the last word. He stood challengingly as Juan and Pablo lurked nervously behind him. 

"I will just see about that," retorted Carlos. He motioned for the sentries to stand down. "Come on, Felipe." 

The young corporal waited until Quiñones and his cronies ducked inside the tent then shook his head. He gestured he wanted to eat. He refused to be intimidated by the other man. 

"Very well," Carlos sighed. "I will get this straightened out. You stay out of their way," he added sternly but with a smile. 

Felipe nodded and made his way into the mess tent. He quickly got his food and sat down to eat. As he lifted the first spoonful of soup to his mouth, the utensil was knocked from his hand, splattering the liquid down the front of his uniform. He did not have to glance up to know it was his rival who had done it. He jumped up from the bench and glared at the other man. 

"I have had it with you," growled Tomas menacingly. "First you steal my woman, then you squeal on me to your friend de la Paz. Though I have heard you two are more than just _amigos_," he remarked with a snicker. Juan and Pablo chuckled tensely. 

Felipe's hand reached for his saber but Quiñones grabbed his arm. "Not here, you fool," he cautioned with a sneer. "Behind the armory in ten minutes." He motioned to his comrades and they all departed the tent. 

Felipe looked down at his meal, losing whatever appetite he had left. His dark eyes glittered with anger as he also strode from the mess. 

The armory with its thick adobe walls was the only solid structure on the whole base. It was also the perfect place for the many illegal duels that took place in its shadows. Located on the edge of the field, it obscured the combatants from prying eyes. The guards surrounding it were easily bribed with a bottle of wine or a couple of cigars to look the other way. 

It took Felipe nine of the ten minutes to find his way there. Tomas and the others were already there, waiting impatiently. Tomas had removed his jacket and drawn his sword. Felipe quickly did the same. He pointed his weapon toward Juan and Pablo, also jacketless, and shook his head. 

"What's that, _muchacho_?" Tomas pretended not to understand the gesture. "You have to speak up, I cannot hear you, imbecile," he mocked. He then turned to look at his friends. "Stay back. I can handle this half-wit by myself." 

The two young men nodded, eager not to get involved. Felipe raised his weapon to the _en garde_ position which Tomas sloppily returned. 

Circling warily, Felipe gripped the hilt of his saber patiently. Diego/Zorro had taught him well. He knew Tomas would lash out first. 

He did not have to wait long. Tomas lunged at him fiercely. His fencing had improved slightly since the last time the pair had fought. But Felipe's was even better. He parried the other blade thrusts without much effort. The bully's skill was rather brutish compared to the young corporal's more polished style. He was, after all, learning from a master swordsman. 

However, Tomas's weapon slipped through Felipe's defense and cut him on the left shoulder. The young de la Vega winced a little, hoping the injury would not put him at a disadvantage. 

Tomas smiled smugly, quite proud of himself. The insolent grin was soon wiped from his face as Felipe executed a simple _riposte_. The point of his saber jabbed into the private's right shoulder. 

It took a moment for the bully to recover. He hurled himself at his opponent. The clashing of their swords had attracted quite a crowd, especially when it was learned who was fighting. Tales of bad blood between the two had spread all over the camp as well as of Felipe's prowess with a blade. 

Felipe now had an advantage, having wounded Tomas' fighting arm. His blade parried all of Tomas' now wild thrusts. He was obviously weakening. The young corporal noticed the dark stain growing on the other man's shirt. Deciding to end it, he did a complicated _redoublement_ that left Tomas flatfooted and sent his weapon flying from his hand. 

Felipe aimed his blade intimidatingly at his unarmed foe who slightly raised his hands upwards. A loud voice caused everyone's heads to spin. "What is going on here?" Sergeant Melendez demanded as he huffed and puffed his way through the crowd. He was followed by Carlos and Capitan de la Cruz. 

Felipe instantly withdrew his blade and tried to return it to its scabbard. That was when he noticed that Tomas had been about to draw out a small pistol from his boot. Wisely, Quiñones hastily stuffed it back in as the three officers approached. 

"It seems your commandante was a little premature in releasing you from the stockade, Private," stated the capitan. "Guards, see that he is returned there immediately once his wound has been attended to." The sentries each grabbed one of Tomas' arms, causing him to cry out in pain. 

De la Cruz then turned to Felipe, whose own injury was being looked at by Carlos. "It's just a scratch," he told Felipe who nodded in agreement. 

"And as for you, Corporal de la Vega," the capitan began, "I think a discharge from the army is in order." 

Felipe stared in disbelief at his superior officer. Carlos spoke up on his friend's behalf. "But Capitan, sir," he protested indignantly, "this was not the corporal's fault. Private Quiñones is the ..." 

He was interrupted by de la Cruz. "That is neither here nor there, Lieutenant. Be assured, the private will spend a long time in the stockade." He glanced at Felipe before he continued, "de la Vega should not have been drafted in the first place. His release was in the works even before today's little contretemps." 

Capitan de la Cruz reached into his jacket and drew out an envelope, handing it to an astonished Felipe. "You may leave as soon as you can get your gear together." He turned to Carlos. "Make sure he understands, Lieutenant." 

The two young friends both saluted as the other officer departed. Carlos was as surprised as Felipe. He chattered on and on as they made their way back to their quarters. It did not take long for Felipe to change out of his uniform and pack his few belongings. Carlos escorted him to the edge of the compound. 

"Well, this is goodbye, Felipe," he stated a bit sadly. "I will write as always." 

Felipe nodded then gestured to his friend. One part of him was extremely happy at being sent home, but a small part was very sad. He would miss Carlos. 

"I will miss you too," Carlos interpreted. He pointed toward the pueblo. "You should be able to find a coach back to Los Angeles in town." 

They patted each other on the shoulder, then Felipe picked up his satchel and started walking down the dirt road, turning to wave at his friend before continuing his journey. 

** Z Z Z**

The sun had just slipped down behind the western horizon, darkening the sky. Inside the tavern, Zorro was preparing to leave, much to Victoria's chagrin. She had soaked the blood from his shirt and had mended the holes in the left sleeve. 

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, easing slowly into the black garment with Victoria's help. His arm was still quite sore but it was getting less awkward to move. Hopefully he would be able to conceal the injury from his father. He fumbled with the shirt's buttons and received assistance from the lovely innkeeper once again. 

Her hand accidently brushed against the bare skin of his chest, causing him to gasp. Or had it been on purpose, he thought as he saw the coy smile on Victoria's face. He pulled her closer with his good arm and kissed her sweet mouth. 

"_Gracias_, Victoria," he murmured against her lips. "I owe you my life once again." 

Victoria smiled bashfully. "I love you, Zorro. You know I would do anything for you." He kissed her again. 

When they broke apart, a frown marred Victoria's brow. "Is your father very important to you" she asked suddenly, remembering his febrile ramblings. 

"My father?" Zorro was stunned by her question. Thinking quickly, he replied enigmatically, "Everyone's parents are important to them. Why do you ask?" 

"You called for him when you were feverish," she stated. "I thought maybe ... " 

He cut in then. "Did I say anything else while I was delirious?" he questioned warily. Obviously he had not mentioned Felipe's name. That would have given away his whole charade. 

"You mostly called for me," she answered, blushing a little. "Oh, I think you said something about the Alcalde being a dirty dog. I could not quite make it out though." Zorro laughed with relief. So he had not revealed any more of his secrets. 

He kissed her again, a kiss that left them both breathless and trembling. Zorro knew he had to go soon or he would never to able to tear himself away. He donned his gloves and hat before trying to stand. He threw his cape around his shoulders and strapped his belt around his waist. He walked at bit unsteadily out of the room, followed by Victoria. 

A thought crossed the beautiful señorita's mind. "How will you leave?" she queried anxiously. "I completely forgot about Toronado. Where has he been all this time?" 

Zorro pictured the big stallion in the cave under the hacienda, contentedly munching on hay. "Do not worry about him, _querida_," he said with a chuckle. "He knows how to take care of himself." 

"And do not worry about me either," he added, drawing her into his embrace for one more kiss. "_Adios_, Victoria," he whispered huskily then slipped out the back door. 

"_Adios_, Zorro." Victoria watched as he disappeared into the shadows. "_Vaya con Dios_." 

** Z Z Z**

Not quite a week later, Diego and his father drove their wagon full of crates into the pueblo. They had more citrus fruits to sell at the _mercado_ that morning. 

Diego's left arm was throbbing painfully. He had loaded the wagon that morning as one of the many things he had done the past several days, pretending nothing was wrong. Zorro had hitched a ride home in the back of a farmer's wagon, unbeknownst to the man, of course. He had slipped into his room just minutes before his father had arrived at the hacienda, worn out from the day spent looking for him. Don Alejandro had been very upset with him. Any sign of weakness would have probably earned the elder de la Vega's eternal contempt. Thankfully, his father had readily accepted Diego's excuse for his disappearance. 

"Getting lost chasing after a stray cow." Don Alejandro shook his head in disappointment. "It surprises me that you can find your way back and forth to Los Angeles." More likely lost in the arms of his mistress, thought the old don. Well, he supposed it was none of his business for now. 

Diego rubbed his sore arm as he jumped down from the wagon. He was not looking forward to unloading all those boxes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Victoria heading their way. Immediately he started lifting crates out and onto the ground. 

"_Buenos dias_," greeted Victoria cheerfully as she approached. "You must have had a very good crop this year." She picked up an orange to examine it. 

"I am glad to see you are feeling better, Victoria," said Don Alejandro. 

"Feeling better?" asked Victoria in confusion. What was he talking about? Oh ... "Yes, much better, _gracias_." She covered her slip quickly. 

Diego's smile turned to a grimace as he picked up another crate out of the wagon. Luckily his discomfort went unnoticed as there was a loud shriek. Everyone's attention turned to Ana Maria as its source. 

She had already abandoned her mother's side and went running in a most unladylike manner toward the pueblo gate. "Felipe!' she shouted. 

Diego swivelled his head sharply. "_Dios mio_. Felipe!" he called out as well and followed after the young woman. 

Felipe had stopped in his tracks and dropped his case. He sprinted toward his sweetheart. They collided into each other's arms and kissed, oblivious of their audience. 

Diego stood back at a discreet distance and cleared his throat loudly. Felipe looked over Ana Maria's shoulder and grinned broadly. Father and son embraced as well. 

"What happened?" Diego inquired. "You have not deserted ... " 

Felipe shook his head instantly and handed the older man his discharge papers. Victoria and Don Alejandro had caught up to them and peered at the document along with Diego. 

"It is about time the military came to its senses," Victoria retorted. She smiled at Felipe. "Welcome home." She gave the young man a quick hug as did Don Alejandro. 

Ana Maria clung to his arm as the group walked to the tavern. She skipped off ahead though to tell her mother the good news. Felipe and Diego were left walking side by side as they lagged behind the others. 

"You will have to tell me all about your adventures," Diego said. He had picked up Felipe's satchel, carrying it with his right hand. Without thinking, he switched it to his opposite hand, causing him to wince in pain. 

Felipe took his bag from his father, his handsome face full of concern. Diego smiled. "Do not worry, Felipe." he reassured him. "I have a little tale to tell you as well." 

Felipe grinned as they hurried to catch up with the others. 

** Z Z Z**

No more than an hour later, the Alcalde rode into the pueblo. His trip north had met with mixed results. He had received a half-hearted promise from one of the governor's aides on his request for additional personnel. The governor himself had been too busy to speak with him. It would probably be a cold day in hell before he actually saw any more men, de Soto thought angrily. 

On a more positive note, he had learned the men in his jail were indeed deserters from San Luis Obispo. He had orders to hold them until the proper military authorities arrived to deal with them. 

Best of all, he had been able to stay in Santa Barbara on his return trip. The daughter of its alcalde had been lovelier than he remembered and he had been allowed to pay court to her. Margarita was her name. She had hung on his every word, showing much interest in the tales of his battles with Zorro. 

Noting briefly it was market day, de Soto dismounted in front of his office and stepped inside. 

"MENDOZA!" 

The sergeant had joined the celebration of Felipe's return going on inside the tavern. He jumped out of his seat at the sound of the Alcalde's voice. Diego, Don Alejandro and Victoria followed him to the doorway, full of curiosity. 

"MENDOZA!" de Soto's yell was even louder and angrier this time. 

The stout sergeant flinched as if in pain. "Oh, no," he guessed correctly. "I think he just found out someone drank all his wine and smoked all his cigars." He scurried across the plaza preparing himself for the fallout of the Alcalde's wrath. 

The trio in the doorway laughed as they rejoined the party. 

** Z Z Z**

**_ FIN_**


End file.
